Silver Dragon
by topazchild
Summary: Merlin incurs the wrath of King Uther, Arthur finds himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the kingdom faces a threat from the sea.
1. Chapter 1

**Please read and review.**

**I do not own Merlin.**

Silver Dragon

Evening

"What can I do for you, Uther?" Gaius entered the king's private chambers. Uther dismissed two servants with a wave of his hand.

"Come in, Gaius. Pour yourself a drink if you like."

Well, that was unexpected. Gaius looked curiously at the king. Uther seemed ill-at-ease for some reason. "No, thank you, Sire."

The king was seated at a table. He gestured toward a small, wooden box with an inlaid cloisonné lid. "Hand me that box."

Uther lifted the lid and removed a small ruby red bag with a drawstring. He handed the bag to Gaius. "Open it." He flickered his fingers toward the physician.

Gaius took out a slender silver chain with a single charm dangling from it. The physician peered closely at it. It was a silver dragon. Ah, he began to understand. He looked at Uther who seemed unable to speak.

"This was Ygraine's, wasn't it?"

Uther nodded. He cleared his throat several times. "It was a wedding gift from me." His voice was hoarse.

Gaius waited for Uther to continue. The king took several fortifying gulps of wine. "I meant to give it to Arthur on his last birthday."

There was silence in the room. Gaius knew that Uther never spoke of his late wife. It was unfortunate for his son. Arthur had grown up never hearing about his mother, possibly even wondering if his father blamed him for his mother's death.

Gaius knew what the king wanted, but if he waited for the king to tell him, he would be standing in this room for a very long time.

"I'll give it to him, Sire." The physician turned and left the room.

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Gaius entered Arthur's room with the little bag. The prince was sitting on the floor near his bed with two of his dogs lying close to him. He was scratching one behind the ears. Merlin was putting neatly folded clothes into Arthur's wardrobe.

"Merlin, I need to speak to Arthur in private."

Arthur frowned at that. He did not want his servant to leave, and he did not like anyone else dismissing him. If it had been anyone besides Gaius, they would have had a taste of royal temper. But Gaius had known him from birth and was one of the few adults that Arthur actually listened to.

The physician waited until the dark-haired young man left the room then handed Arthur the little bag. Curious, Arthur pulled the drawstring apart and poured the silver necklace into the palm of his hand. He looked at the little dragon then up at Gaius.

"The king wanted you to have this. He intended to give it to you on your last birthday."

Arthur looked steadily up at Gaius and waited.

"It belonged to your mother."

The prince took a few seconds to process the information then felt strong emotion overwhelming him.

"My m-m-mother?" he stammered. His breathing became labored, and the prince was left wheezing for breath.

"Take deep, steady breaths, Arthur," the physician said, concerned. He sat on the bed, the prince on the floor at his feet. He rubbed his shoulders. "I'll stay for a while."

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Several days later

Merlin checked to see if there was anything heavy within reach of Arthur's hand. Yes, several things, including a pitcher of water. Merlin prudently moved it to the other end of the table. Arthur, busy eating his breakfast of eggs and ham, didn't seem to notice. Also, there was a small pot of cream. Best to move that out of range, also.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" Arthur _had_ noticed. The dark-haired young man sighed. Okay, get it over with.

"Um, your father wants you to spend the next few days entertaining Lord Acton and his sister, Lady Arabella." Merlin spoke rapidly, running all the words together. Arthur stared at him. It took him a few seconds to work out what his servant had said.

"I will _not_! I detest Lord Acton and Lady Arabella!" Arthur looked around for something to throw. Merlin had moved everything heavy out of range. Merlin started edging toward the door. Quick as a snake, Arthur jumped up and, moving rapidly around the table, grabbed Merlin by the wrist.

Merlin pulled back, trying to free himself from Arthur's grip. "Let go!"

Arthur ignored him, thinking. "I'll need to get out of here for a few days."

"Let go of me, Prat!"

Arthur turned loose, causing his servant to stumble backward several feet, nearly falling. "Don't leave this room until you're dismissed," he said, coldly. Still thinking outloud, Arthur continued, "I could take some of the new recruits. We could, um, we could patrol the perimeters." Arthur started pacing around the room. "The _fartherest_ perimeters."

Merlin groaned. He didn't like where this was heading.

Arthur stopped pacing and looked at his servant. "You forgot to give me my father's message."

"But I didn't!" Merlin wailed. The day was rapidly becoming a full-fledged disaster.

"I didn't get the message, and we'd already left the castle."

"Clotpole."

"With any luck, we'll be long gone before my father thinks to send for me."

"Dollophead."

Arthur looked at his servant. "Pack enough food and supplies for three days. And hurry!" On a thought, "Oh, and you won't be coming."

Merlin briefly wondered if there was a spell to turn a prince into a frog. Maybe in the book of magic that Gaius had given him. He hadn't looked at every single spell, had he?

It was much later before it dawned on him that Arthur would be unprotected for three long days.

Elsewhere

The invaders' ship was anchored off shore in a wild and rugged area of the coast. Over the past week, the Angle invaders had come silently onto shore in smaller boats where they had stolen horses, sheep, and pigs, a few at a time, from outlying farms. They were keeping a low profile, moving mostly at night, avoiding engaging any of the local villagers. Their leader was a savage giant of a man, grizzled and scarred from countless battles, his face pitted and swarthy from the elements. Gerlach kept his men in line with an iron fist. The last man who questioned his authority lay buried in a shallow grave back on the mainland.

Gerlach and his men had set up base camp in a wooded area a few kilometers from the seldom used coastal road. The road had fallen into disuse by the locals due both to an ancient battleground nearby that some swore was haunted and a lawless element that roamed in the area. Gerlach's men had efficiently dealt with several of the latter which would have been a service to the community if they themselves hadn't posed the larger threat.

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Merlin spent the rest of the day in the stocks (courtesy of a wrathful King Uther) being pelted by rotten fruits and vegetables. His feelings toward the royal prat were less than charitable. Not for the first time, he reflected on what had got him in this position (both figurately and literally). He was completely innocent, had done nothing wrong. A strong sense of injustice gnawed at him, and he fleetingly hoped that Arthur was having bad luck wherever he was. Nothing fatal, of course. On the thought, a chill went through him. He mentally reviewed what Arthur had been wearing when he left. Nothing with the royal dragon. No rings with royal insignia. Merlin would know better than anyone since he practically dressed the prat every morning.

There was one tiny little detail that the warlock missed. Not his fault really since Gaius had sent him from the room before giving the prince the silver dragon.

That evening it was with a sense of vast relief that Merlin found himself freed from the stocks and back being fussed over by the kindly physician.

It was much later when Morgana woke screaming from a nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

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Chapter Two

Arthur and a handful of the younger knights came riding up the coastal road just after dusk, not being particularly quiet. The Angles had heard them coming long before they came into view around a bend.

"Don't engage," hissed Gerlach, unfortunately not loudly enough to be heard by all his men. Several of them had burst onto the road ahead, riding their stolen horses. It was with considerable dismay that they found themselves facing, not ragtag highwaymen, but well-armed knights led by a skillful young leader. Arthur and his men drew their swords and made short work of the incautious raiders, the now riderless horses galloping back to the homes they were stolen from. The golden-haired prince had a few seconds to note the ship lying silently off the coast of the Celtic Sea.

"Get them!" screamed a livid Gerlach, blood lust roaring through his veins as he and his remaining men mounted their horses and charged onto the road.

"The yellow-haired one is mine! Don't touch him!" commanded Gerlach, spittle flying from his mouth. "I will kill him myself!"

_You are so welcome to try_, thought Arthur. "Bring it!" he yelled.

The skirmish commenced between the opposing forces, none of Gerlach's men daring to harm the prince even when they had a clear shot of him from behind. Arthur was an unknown factor; they were all afraid of Gerlach. The two sides collided, each man fighting fiercely for his life. The knights were outnumbered but better armed, their horses experienced and well-trained. The stolen horses were skittish and out of their element, not responding to the commands of their strange riders.

Arthur's attention was divided, a larger worry nagging at his mind. "Kellon," he yelled to the youngest knight. "Report back to the king! Invaders from the sea!" Kellon turned his horse on the instant and flew like a bat out of hell back down the road. In that few seconds of lost focus, Arthur turned his head slightly. He paid for it dearly. Gerlach brought his sword up to swing at Arthur's neck. The prince, a few seconds tardy, brought up his own sword to deflect. Gerlach's sword was knocked higher, and Arthur was hit in the temple with the flat of the man's sword and part of the hilt. The sword went spinning to the ground. Arthur reeled, pain exploding in his head, as he fought to hold on to consciousness. Gerlach, seeing the prince momentarily neutralized, screamed at the few men he had left. "Stop that man! Don't let him get through!" Two surviving men gave chase, riding at full pelt down the road. Gerlach took a few seconds to vault off his horse and grab his sword from the ground then tore off after them. When the riders ahead of him vanished around a bend, Gerlach started thinking more clearly. He pulled up his horse. He had left one very large loose end. Gerlach decided his men could stop the young knight, and he went riding back to finish off Arthur.

The moon had come up, and Gerlach could see bodies scattered on the road and a few riderless horses. Where was the blonde warrior? He jumped off his horse, holding tightly to the reins, and peered closely at the men lying dead and dying on the road. He swore long and viciously. The young man was gone.

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Merlin woke at the usual time then realized he didn't have to get up. He didn't have to run to the kitchen, and he didn't have to fetch anyone's breakfast. Hey, he could get used to this. The prat being gone wasn't _all_ bad.

Much later, Merlin took Arthur's dogs out for a walk on a hillside outside castle walls. Most of his chores he could let slide, but the dogs needed their walk. His neck and back still ached from spending most of the day in the stocks yesterday, but his naturally cheerful disposition had reasserted itself. Now, if he could just avoid the king for the remainder of the day.

Elsewhere, several hours earlier

Arthur, wandering aimlessly through the woods, had a concussion. He had either dismounted or fallen from his horse, he couldn't remember which. He vaguely remembered leaving Camelot with his knights but nothing much after that. Was Merlin with them? He didn't seem to know that either. His vision was blurred, and something was wrong with his balance. He stumbled several times and, hampered by the darkness, nearly walked into trees.

Disoriented, his head aching badly, Arthur first set booted foot upon the ancient battlefield so feared by the locals. Spectral warriors sprang from among the trees and surrounded him.

"Who dares defile this sacred ground?" snarled one of the ghostly warriors.

Several of them peered closely at him, their eyes glowing red in the faint moonlight. One of them reached an icy hand to pluck at his necklace. Through a haze of pain, he heard a startled exclamation and excited whispering among the specters. "Artorius!" they cried. "Forgive us, we didn't recognize you."

The apparitions bowed to him and withdrew. Next to appear was a spectral king, a thin crown of gold upon his head.

"Artorius, we are greatly honored by your presence, but you must leave. Only the dead walk here, and you live still."

"I don't know…..," stammered Arthur, a great fatigue falling upon him. He looked around uncertainly. Was Merlin with him? "Where is the ….? I don't know how ….."

The king lifted one hand, and a peregrine falcon flew out of the forest and landed on a tree branch near where Arthur stood.

"Guide the prince safely off this sacred ground," the king said to the raptor. "He is injured. Make sure he can follow you."

The falcon spread its great wings and, tilting its head, inspected the prince with a dark eye. It rose from the branch and flew off, Arthur stumbling after.

"Don't tell the woman who you are," the king said to Arthur's retreating back.

_What woman? _


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Laurel tucked a loose strand of hair behind one ear. She was a careworn woman in her mid-forties, worn down by tragedy and deep sorrow. Sometimes the hollowness inside of her made her wonder why she wasn't carried off by the wind and the rain. All she had to look forward to were long, lonely years keeping house for her brother. The two of them lived in a cottage some distance from the nearest village. It was isolated but somehow it suited her. She couldn't live in town.

This day she had risen before dawn and walked to the graves of her husband and her precious son. The latter had been fourteen when the king had ordered him killed. Someone from the village had gone to the castle and reported that the boy was seen using magic. It was a lie, of course. Some of the king's men had come for Adrian, and her husband had been killed trying to save him. She would have just laid down and died, but her brother, Bron, refused to let her.

She rose listlessly to her feet, the wildflowers she held in her hand falling scattered across Adrian's grave. She heard a slight sound behind her and the rush of wings. She half-turned, the falcon flying so close to her she could feel a slight breeze from its passing.

Laurel saw the boy, young man really, walking unsteadily towards her in the tall grass. How very odd, she thought. It was almost as if the falcon had guided him here. He was coming from the direction of the ancient battlefield, avoided by all living men. Curiosity overcame her native caution, and she walked to meet him. He was hurt but definitely alive.

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Earlier

Full darkness had fallen, and Kellon found himself with a dilemma. He couldn't continue galloping down a seldom used road on a rapidly flagging horse without coming to grief sooner or later. He could hear his two pursuers but no longer see them. He was just about to chance pulling off the road and losing himself and his horse among the large boulders and trees, when he heard shouting and a loud commotion behind him. The two raiders did not sound happy which translated to good news for him. Short of turning around to investigate, which he sure as hell wasn't going to do, he was not going to know what happened.

Okay, this was his best chance of surviving this thing and making it back to Camelot in one piece. His horse was exhausted and needed to rest, and he wasn't in much better shape. He trotted off the road and dismounted, walking carefully with the horse to find some kind of shelter for what remained of the night.

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Arthur was very tired and confused and his head hurt badly. The woman took him by the hand and walked with him to her cottage. There was a man there who came out and helped support him inside. Arthur just wanted to sleep. And he wanted his head to stop hurting.

Bron took in the chain mail the stranger was wearing. "You realize this man is a knight in the Pendragon court?" Bron watched his sister carefully for her reaction. She and Bron had eased Arthur into a chair.

Laurel busied herself inspecting Arthur's injury and didn't immediately answer.

"He's of noble birth," her brother continued. "Only the sons of nobility are allowed to be knights."

"And your point - ?" she asked, impatiently.

"Don't be so thick. You know what I'm saying. You don't have to help him."

"And what would you suggest as an alternative? You want to drag him out into the woods and let him die?"

Arthur opened blue eyes clouded with pain. "Don't ….want to cause trouble. I ….I can go."

"No, no, you stay here. We'll help you," Laurel said, in a tone of voice that Bron hadn't heard since Adrian had been alive. Bron was starting to get a bad feeling about it all.

Laurel and her brother managed to get the chain mail off Arthur without injuring him further. The young man wore a dark blue shirt of fine material underneath, embroidery skillfully sewn around the neck and front placket. Laurel admired the workmanship.

"He's probably thirsty. Watch him. Make sure he doesn't fall." The woman hurried off to fetch their unexpected guest some water.

Bron took advantage of her absence to satisfy his curiosity. He pulled another chair closer to Arthur.

"Do you remember what happened? How you got hurt?

Arthur tried to focus on the man's face. There seemed to be two of him. "No…don't…"

Bron studied the prince. He seemed familiar, like Bron had seen him somewhere before. How did _that_ make sense? The boy was not from around here, that much was obvious.

"Do you know who you are?"

"We can save the questions for later," Laurel said, annoyed, as she reentered the room. She handed the prince the water then wrapped her fingers around his as she guided it to his lips.

"You know people are going to be looking for him," Bron said.

His sister ignored the comment. "Set the cot up in here by the fire. I'll get a blanket."

Later

Arthur lay sleeping fitfully, pain keeping him from complete oblivion. Laurel sat beside the cot, holding one of his hands in both of hers. Bron stood nearby watching both of them.

This was not going to end well.


	4. Chapter 4

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Chapter Four

Merlin woke up resigned. He was going to have to go after Arthur. He knew from sad experience that more than enough time had passed for the prince to have gotten himself knee-deep in trouble. He ate a quick breakfast, hastily packed a few things, and said good-bye to Gaius. He managed to get to the stables without running into Sir Leon or any of the other knights. Saddling up the mare he usually rode, Merlin thought back over his last conversation with Arthur.

"The fartherest perimeter," he murmured to the horse. "That would be the coastal region. Western edge."

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"Could you run an errand for me, please?" Laurel asked her brother. "The boy needs medicine for the pain. Go to the healer in the village and tell him that I am having headaches."

Bron returned a few hours later with a small vial which he gave to his sister.

"Did he say how much to take?" Laurel asked.

Bron shrugged. "The whole thing I guess." He slid an arm behind Arthur's shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position.

"This will help with the pain," she said to the prince. Laurel coaxed the young man into swallowing in a voice she would normally have used with a five-year-old. Arthur was hurting and confused, but he trusted her and he did as she asked. The people who knew the headstrong prince well would have been amazed at his acquiescence.

Several hours later, Laurel began to wonder if she had drugged him into the middle of next week. Arthur had fallen into a deep sleep and lay unmoving on the narrow bed.

"Did we give him too much?" she asked, worriedly. She smoothed his hair with her hand.

"He's breathing all right. Quit fretting." Bron couldn't shake the feeling that he should know who the young man was. He picked up one of his hands. He wore no rings, nothing really to identify him. On a thought, he reached his hand through the placket of the blue shirt and felt around the boy's neck. He was wearing a chain of some kind. He pulled it free of the shirt.

"What are you doing?" his sister asked.

"He's wearing a necklace. It has something on it."

"Let me see." Both of them looked at the silver dragon.

A dragon. An unwelcome thought played at the edges of Bron's mind. No. It wasn't possible. He refused to even consider it. His sister couldn't possibly be playing mother hen to the son of her worst enemy.

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Uther had left the odious castle guests with Morgana for a time and escaped to the battlements for a breather. He had a clear view therefore when Sir Leon came hurrying through the courtyard accompanied by one of the newer knights. Wait. Wasn't that one of the knights that Arthur took with him? Yes, it was. A feeling of foreboding came over him.

"Leon! Up here!" the king yelled down. Leon and Kellon looked up and saw him. He waved them up.

A few moments later, the two knights, one of them seriously out of breath, joined the king. Kellon looked exhausted, like someone barely holding it together.

"Sire," Sir Leon said, "Kellon has an urgent report."

Kellon told Uther about Arthur and the knights unexpectantly coming upon the Angle raiders. He filled the king in on the ship anchored offshore and the approximate number of invaders they'd been fighting.

"What about my son?"

"The prince was fighting with their leader but holding his own when I left, Sire." Kellon wanted to make one thing very clear. "The prince ordered me to report back to you."

"Understood," the king replied, with a small smile. "Well done. You are dismissed."

"Go eat and rest, Kellon," Sir Leon said, as the knight bowed to the king and turned to leave. "We'll need you later."

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"Laurel, come with me on a short walk." Bron had reached a decision.

"I don't want to leave him."

"We gave him the medicine. He's sleeping. There's nothing else he needs right now," he said, impatiently. He took his sister by the arm and guided her outside. "I need to talk to you."

"Make it quick," she said, distractedly, looking back over her shoulder.

"Laurel. Try to focus here. This is important."

"All right!"

"The young man is not noble," Bron stated.

"I thought we decided - "

"He's royal," Bron finished.

Laurel didn't immediately reply. She walked a little further. "You think he's Uther's son?"

"Yes, I saw him a few years ago when he was a child. His name is Arthur. Remember when I went to Camelot for a new plowshare? I've been thinking that I'd seen him before."

"His mother's dead, isn't she?"

Okay, that was an odd remark. Of all the possible responses she could have made, he wasn't expecting that one.

"What the hell difference does that make? We need to get him out of here. Maybe I can take him to the healer in the village."

"Her name was Ygraine," Laurel said, ignoring him. "She was married to Gorlois, the Duke of Cornwall. There was some scandal. The child was born at Tintagel." She turned on her heel and walked back to the cottage leaving her brother standing, exasperated.

Bron trailed her inside a few minutes later. She was standing by the bed, looking down at the unconscious prince. Well, if she wanted to kill him, Bron thought, now would be the perfect time. He was completely helpless.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Valuing their lives, the two Angles who had tried to stop Kellon did not return to report failure. One of them had taken a nasty spill - the commotion that Kellon had heard - and his horse had turned up lame. He himself had wrenched his knee. His companion had ridden to a nearby farm and stolen another horse. The pair decided to put as much distance between themselves and Gerlach as possible.

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Merlin saw the peregrine falcon for the first time on the second day. It almost seemed to be following him. When he stopped to give his horse a breather, the raptor flew up onto a branch above them and waited. It watched as the mare munched grass and drank water from a stream.

The warlock was just about to remount his horse when four people, three men and a woman, came into view leading Arthur's horse. They were on foot, tall and slender, with the pointed ears of their elven race. One of them, a man with waist-length blonde hair spoke to him. "Greetings, Emrys. Hail and well-met."

Merlin distractedly greeted them in turn. Arthur's sword was in its scabbard on the horse. So Arthur was on foot and unarmed. Well, great.

"Can you tell me where to find Prince Arthur?" Merlin asked.

The elf smiled and gestured to the falcon sitting on a branch above them. "Follow your guide, Emrys."

The elves accompanied him for a time then vanished silently into the forest. A few kilometers later, the falcon circled him and flew off down a side path.

"I guess we're going this way," Merlin mumbled to himself.

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Gerlach was in a foul mood. He had lost a number of his best men, and the two men he had sent after the knight had not returned. He correctly interpreted that to mean that they had not caught and killed him. If he had been a cautious man he would have taken his remaining men and put out to sea as quickly as possible. But he wasn't, and he wanted the blonde knight. Badly. He fervently hoped the man had not crawled off and died somewhere. Gerlach wanted the pleasure of plunging a dagger through his heart.

Except for a few men he had left on the ship, Gerlach had all his surviving men at the base camp in the woods. For the past few days he had sent out sorties to try and find the blonde warrior with repeated orders not to kill him. If any of the men had found him, such was their fear of Gerlach, they wouldn't have harmed so much as a hair on his head.

Elsewhere

King Uther, with Sir Leon at his side, had called a hasty war council with a few of the older, more experienced knights. Uther had wanted to personally lead the knights into battle and, to his credit, not just to avoid the odious castle guests. (Morgana seemed to have a higher tolerance level for them and had assumed hostess duties.) If time had not been of the essence he would have sent emissaries to neighboring kingdoms - even Cenred's - and formed an emergency alliance. None of the native Britons wanted the invaders from the mainland to get a toehold in their various kingdoms. (The enemy of my enemy is my friend.) But Uther didn't dare leave Camelot leaderless and unprotected so he reluctantly chose to remain behind with a small contingent of knights. Underneath all the haste and urgency was a deep fear that something bad had happened to his son and heir.

Sir Leon took Percival, Gwaine, Elyan, and twenty other men and left Camelot. Leon had received a full report from Kellon, including pinpointing the location of the battle on the coastal road, and chose in the end to leave the exhausted young man in Camelot. After he had rested, Kellon had orders to join the king at the castle. They were still spread thin, but the king and Sir Leon did the best they could manage as fast as they could.

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Laurel was kneeling by Adrian's grave, a light wind swirling and blowing wisps of hair about her face. She had neglected coming here of late. She let the wildflowers she held fall from her hand.

"I love you, Baby," she whispered. Tears filled her eyes.

She heard a man's footsteps approaching her from behind but didn't turn. She reached her left hand up and felt his fingers grasp hers.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

"Yes," Arthur said. "I want to thank you for taking care of me."

She turned loose of his hand and stood up. "You haven't got all of your strength back."

"Getting there," he said. He wanted to ask her if he could see her again, but he wasn't real good with rejection and he wasn't sure he could bear it if she said no.

They both heard the swoosh of wings and saw a large bird flying low and fast in their peripheral vision. They hastily stepped further apart as the peregrine falcon hurtled itself between them.

"Are all your comings and goings so dramatic?" she asked, with a touch of humor.

"Not usually." Arthur looked back toward the forest and saw Merlin enter the clearing riding the mare he usually rode and leading his own horse. The prince felt great relief and a lightening of heart.

Laurel looked curiously toward the warlock. "Do you know him?"

Arthur checked quickly to make sure Merlin was out of hearing range. He was. "Yes, he's my friend."

Merlin rode up a few moments later and dismounted, holding the reins of both horses. Bron emerged from the cottage and joined them as Arthur made introductions and greetings were exchanged.

The warlock, critically inspecting Arthur from head to toe, noted the still healing head injury. "What happened? Who did this?"

"I don't know."

"How could you not know? You don't remember?"

"No, I don't remember," Arthur replied, frustrated.

Merlin looked toward Bron and his sister to see if either of them could add anything further. Laurel told the dark-haired young man the prince had been in bad shape when he had staggered into view several days prior.

"He's been staying here? For several days?" Merlin asked Laurel.

"Yes," she replied.

Merlin looked a question at Arthur which the latter correctly interpreted. "Yes, they know who I am. And no, I didn't tell them."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Merlin asked. "Before you were hurt, I mean."

Arthur thought for a moment. "Riding out of Camelot with some of the men." Arthur frowned. "We were going to ….. I don't …. ."

"You said you were going to patrol the perimeters," the dark-haired young man offered helpfully. "Ring any bells?"

The prince closed his blue eyes and rubbed his forehead trying to remember. He looked like his head was starting to hurt again.

"Don't force it, Arthur," Laurel said, gently. "The memories will come on their own or not at all."

Merlin, who had snuck out of Camelot before Kellon's arrival, was nearly as clueless as Arthur, but he had a strong feeling he needed to retrieve the prince and get the heck out of there. Now.

"We need to leave," Merlin said, apologetically. "Someone knows Arthur is still alive, and they're probably coming after him."

"You're not in charge," Arthur said, firmly.

"Of course not. Let's go," Merlin said. He shot a look of entreaty in Bron's direction. The man, physically strong from years of working on his farm, stepped forward and bodily threw the prince onto his horse.

Arthur was annoyed, but he knew Bron was one of the reasons he was still alive so he chose to say nothing. Laurel stepped closer to Arthur's horse and laid her hand on his. "Good-by, Arthur. You'll be a great king."

"Someone told me that once," he replied, with a sideward glance at Merlin.

As the two young men rode out, Merlin threw a quick look back over his shoulder, his eyes gold.

The next morning, Laurel was surprised but quite pleased to see morning glories, sky blue in color, framing the door of her cottage.

Elsewhere

Back in Camelot, King Uther received an unexpected benefit from the castle being on high alert. The odious castle guests left a few days earlier than planned. Uther used all the acting skills at his command when he told Lord Acton and Lady Arabella how devastated he was that their visit was cut short. This backfired somewhat when the pair promised to return for a longer visit in the near future.

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Arthur's and Merlin's horses sidestepped nervously as the two young men paused on the edge of the ancient battlefield.

"Are you sure about this?" Merlin asked.

"Yes, he can tell me what happened," Arthur replied.

They had ridden only a little bit further when the spectral warriors emerged from between the trees. The king himself soon appeared in their midst, his eyes glowing red.


	6. Chapter 6

**Please read and review. I need some feedback. Thanks!**

Chapter Six

Several of the younger knights (besides Kellon) had in fact survived the battle on the coastal road. They had crawled or limped off under cover of darkness and had spent the last few days nursing various injuries and avoiding Gerlach's frequent patrols. They found a water source but, pinned down as they were, were finding it difficult to hunt for food. They had survived so far on a diet of roots, nuts, and berries. The young men had heard the prince order Kellon to warn the king and were desperately hoping that he had made it safely through to Camelot and that Sir Leon would be arriving with reenforcements.

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Dusk was falling as the two young men rode into view on the road that ran along the coast. The lone sentry left by Gerlach faded silently back into the woods. He watched them curiously. Arthur he remembered from before. Who was the other young man? A servant from his clothing, he thought. The blonde knight was obviously a noble. The sentry strained to hear what they were saying. He could hear their voices but their words were indistinguishable. They were looking out to sea at the ship.

"Is anything coming back, Arthur?" Merlin asked. "The ship? Do you remember the ship?" The spectral king had told both of them about the ambush and the men who had come from the sea.

"No," Arthur replied, unhappily.

"How about the fight? The men who attacked you?"

"No. No!" Arthur was getting increasingly agitated, and his head was starting to hurt.

"All right. All right. Calm down," Merlin said, soothingly, kicking himself for causing Arthur further distress. The prince was far from well. It didn't occur to either of them that Arthur had ordered one of the knights to warn the king and summon help.

The hidden sentry went to tell Gerlach the blonde knight was back. He was gone when the peregrine falcon flew low over the prince's shoulder. Merlin, taking its appearance for the warning it was, looked around sharply. He realized suddenly how exposed the two of them were.

"Arthur, we're not safe here. We need to get off this road," he said, in a low voice.

The pair of them cantered down the road a bit further then veered off into the woods. A few moments later, the prince and the warlock found themselves surrounded by the Angle invaders. Despite their perilous situation, Arthur and Merlin studied Gerlach. This was apparently the man who had grievously injured Arthur several days prior. As ugly as the prince was fair, the man was huge, his face pock-marked and swarthy. Arthur still did not remember him.

"I've had men out searching for you for days," he bellowed. "What little hidey-hole did you scurry down?" He sneered at Arthur.

"No matter. I'm here now," Arthur replied, with as much bravado as he could muster. He spoke in an urgent undertone to Merlin. "Get behind me."

The warlock obeyed with alacrity. He was out of Arthur's direct line of sight and could use his magic with impunity. Gerlach's men had all fanned out, several of them indifferent as to the outcome but not holding out much hope for the slender, graceful prince.

Merlin, scoping out the situation, noticed several of the invaders were under a large, overhanging branch. How unfortunate for them.

"_Forbearnan firgenholt_." Crack! The branch broke and crashed down, knocking three of Gerlach's men off their horses, one of them out cold. Their horses reared and plunged in panic, then galloped off.

Gerlach's focus was all on the cornered knight. The Angle, knowing he had injured the knight in their previous encounter, didn't think Arthur would present much of a challenge this time around. He didn't want to kill him too fast though. Where was the entertainment value in that? He wanted to drag it out as long as possible. Give the men a show. If Gerlach had had the slightest inkling whom he was toying with, he would have killed him immediately. No games. His misreading of the situation would ultimately prove his undoing. Gerlach and Arthur closed and swung at each other, their swords clanging, the sounds carrying in the night air.

Merlin looked around for a moment. Gerlach's men were on three sides, none of them that close, and none bothering with him, considering him of no import. He and Arthur were badly outnumbered, of course, but he could see several things to their advantage. Behind them was the ancient battlefield. Merlin felt a little spark of excitement fan to life. He and Arthur might actually have a chance to survive this thing. He knew the prince was not strong and would not have the stamina to slug it out with Gerlach for a prolonged length of time. The two of them could retreat back into the woods. The spectral king would almost surely grant them sanctuary.

Quickly Merlin glanced back at the prince. His meager reserves of energy nearly depleted, the prince was going on will alone. It was obvious to the dark-haired young man that Gerlach was toying with Arthur, amusing himself and entertaining his men. Stupid really, thought the warlock. Even hurt and exhausted, Arthur was dangerous.

Unseen by the invaders, drawn by the sound of clanging swords, the surviving knights crept nearer. Two of them even managed to grab a couple of the loose horses. Unluckily for him, one of Gerlach's men had ventured into the trees after a horse. He was jumped by two of Arthur's knights and nearly decapitated. His last coherent thought was surprise.

Arthur, meanwhile, was tired and sick and dizzy, but he was going to go out fighting and hopefully give his friend a chance to escape. He too was dimly aware that the Angle warrior had been toying with him, but he was grateful for the tiniest advantage. He became gradually aware that Merlin was talking to him in a low, urgent tone, and he strained to hear.

"Arthur, the battlefield is behind us. We'll be safe there. They'll give us sanctuary." That filtered through the haze of fatigue.

The warlock decided a distraction was needed to buy them a little time. "_Ahatian_," he murmured. Gerlach's sword turned red-hot, burning the Angle's hand and causing him to roar in startled pain, the sword dropping from his hand. His men looked around, spooked. What just happened?

Merlin yelled at the prince, "Arthur, drop back now!" He rode forward a few paces and caught at the bridle of the prince's horse, turning him. The warlock slapped the horse's rump, and the animal galloped deeper into the woods.

"Merlin!" yelled Arthur, panicked that his friend would be killed.

"I'm with you. Go!" the warlock hollered. He waited a few seconds longer to give Arthur time to pull further ahead. Merlin looked back over his shoulder and saw Gerlach grab for the sword of one of his men. He was leaning and slightly off balance.

"_Onbind tha teage_," Merlin chanted. The cinch on Gerlach's saddle broke, dumping the startled and enraged warrior onto the ground. Merlin tore after Arthur.

Fury possessed the giant Angle, all rational thought gone. His prey was slipping through his fingers yet again. Gerlach yanked at the closest man, pulling him from his horse and breaking his arm when he fell. He vaulted upon the panicked horse and screamed, "A sword! Give me a sword! _Now!" _

One of his men hastily offered his own. Gerlach seized it and tore into the haunted battlefield after Arthur. Only a handful of the invaders followed him. Those who remained behind, more cautious and possibly wiser than their fellows, exchanged looks. As one, they turned and galloped back to the road.

A short distance away

Sir Leon and the older knights, loping up the road, had been hearing shouting and the clashing of swords for some time now. It would be Arthur, he supposed, and the younger knights. Leon urged his tired horse to a faster pace. Moments later, the fleeing Angle invaders spilled out onto the road. There was a moment of confusion.

"Halt! Identify yourselves!" Leon commanded.

He was largely ignored. The Angles fled across the road and started picking their way down the treacherous cliffs as fast as they could safely manage. Leon was puzzled. The fleeing men seemed terrified of something. Where was Arthur, and what was going on?

Elsewhere

Gerlach had chased Arthur and Merlin into the haunted battleground. The few men who accompanied him were considerably less enthused. They looked around uneasily. The place was creepy enough with stark black shapes of trees against a night sky of dark, brooding clouds. A few ravens and once an owl flew over the pursuers. The men tried with limited success to repress primitive fears that arose inside them.

Merlin decided they had ridden deeply enough, and he tugged at his horse's reins. "Hold up, Arthur!" he yelled. They plunged to a halt and turned their horses.

Gerlach howled gleefully in triumph, bloodlust thundering through his veins. At long last he could kill this man. He swore he would cut his heart out. Before he could draw his sword, however, there was a collective gasp, filled with terror, from his men. He looked beyond the knight. An army of ghostly warriors had sprung up, their eyes glowing red, and an eerie phosphorus green light emanating from their translucent bodies. So horrific was the sight that several of the Angles shouted a warning to Arthur. The wraiths moved closer to the prince and his servant and, reaching them, swirled around them and past them, leaving the pair unharmed. Soon the spectral king materialized in their midst. He spoke directly to Arthur.

"We are honored to offer you sanctuary, your highness. We have seen how these men pursue and threaten you. Please accept our protection from the enemies that would harm you."

Merlin, with a quick glance at the exhausted prince, spoke for him. "The prince is deeply grateful and accepts your offer of protection."

_Prince? _thought Gerlach. _One that could summon an army of the dead at will? _It at last penetrated his thick skull that not only had he misread the situation and underestimated his opponent, but that he himself was in deadly peril. He turned his horse only to see the backs of his terrified men as they raced frantically to get off this haunted ground.

The Angle warriors had had enough. To a man they wanted to return to their ship and leave this frightening land. They had turned their nervous horses and pelted out of there, the glowing, eerie wraith warriors following them. The specters floated alongside their horses, plucking the terrified Angles off with icy skeletal hands. The blood froze in their veins and their hearts stopped in their chests, and they fell dead to the ground. The spectral king approached Gerlach and seizing him, pulled him from the horse. The Angle was dead before he hit the ground, a deep chill shutting down his heart.

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The prince sat his horse with head down, too tired for thought. The dark-haired young man leaned over and took the reins from Arthur's slack hands. The two of them rode off the haunted battlefield, the peregrine falcon flying point. A short time later, they exited the woods and reemerged onto the road. At some point, the surviving younger knights had joined them.

Sir Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, and the other knights looked up, as surprised to see Merlin as they were to see Arthur. They knew he hadn't ridden out with Arthur days ago. They also knew a vengeful King Uther had had the young man thrown into the stocks. How had he gotten here? Their attention shifted to the prince, slumped in the saddle, barely clinging to consciousness.

"Help me," Merlin said to them. Gwaine and Elyan moved the fastest. The two knights hurried to assist the injured prince. As they pulled him off his horse, Arthur lost consciousness, becoming dead weight in their arms.

A few weeks later

The prince had returned to his usual good health, but his spirits were in a dark place. All the old feelings of being abandoned and unloved that he usually kept hidden, even from himself, had surfaced. He wished he could see Laurel. And even Bron. He didn't understand himself. How could he miss someone he had known for less than a week? And another thing. He was a prince. Why could he never have what he wanted?

Merlin knew that the prince had been desperately unhappy, and he guessed at the cause of it. Surprisingly, Arthur had not taken out his foul mood on his servant. The prince had not yelled at him once, not overloaded him with chores, or told him he was a clumsy idiot. While initially appreciating the prince's new-found consideration, he soon grew tired of it and wanted the old Arthur back. To that end, he and Guinevere had put their heads together.

Arthur was standing, waiting for his servant to assist him with his chain mail.

"Um, you won't be needing your chain mail today," Merlin said.

Arthur stared at him. "What?"

"Your schedule has been cleared for the day."

"What?" he repeated. "Cleared by whom?" There was a flash of the old temper.

"That would be me," Merlin said, a trifle nervously.

"I did not give my permission - ," Arthur began, baffled and beginning to get angry.

"You'll be going on a picnic."

"A picnic?"

"Uh, huh. With Guinevere."

Arthur backed up a few feet and sat in a chair. He continued to stare at his servant. "I don't remember being consulted."

"You're being abducted. You don't need to be consulted for an abduction."

"Are you joking?"

"No." Merlin shook his head. "Gwaine and I are coming, too."

"Why are you and Gwaine coming?" Oops, wrong question.

Merlin laughed at him as Guinevere entered, looking fetching in an old dress of Morgana's, followed by Gwaine lugging a heavy picnic basket.

"Did you tell him?" Gwen asked Merlin.

"Yes. He's really excited about it."

"Idiot."

"Prat."

The End


End file.
